Before
by simmonsDA50
Summary: This takes place soon after Shane gets back with the medical supplies for Carl. Gradually it becomes more and more Shane/Rick. Sort of a FWB thing? Spoilers for season 2. (Also I didn't even know this but there are two versions of this story, this is a rough draft I guess, and then the next one is cleaner. I wonder if I can edit on this? I'll try, I know there are grammar errors:p)


Otis died a hero.

 _You're a fucking liar, and you know it._

No, he had a meaningful death. Saved us all.

 _You shot him in his goddamned leg. The only meaning you gave it was malice._

He saved me.

 _Boy, no one can save you._

"Shane."

The man abruptly started at his name, looking up to find the face of the voice that'd shaken him. Rick, his blue eyes soft, his voice gentle. He had a damp washcloth in hand, standing across from him.

"Here," he murmured, along with a string of other words that Shane could only ignore, as he was deep inside his own mind.

Shane felt the coolness of the cloth on the back of his neck, the side of his face, bridge of his nose. He couldn't feel anything beyond it. He slowly sank into the cold, the dark. He could hear the snarling in his ear, he could feel them closing in on him- on _both_ of them.

 _You were a dead man._

A hand on his shoulder brought him back from his mind, steadying him when he didn't know he was swaying. "Shane, you haven't sat down since you got back. You could use a rest." Shane shook his head, vacillating between looking at Rick and the ground. Rick was the one it hurt the most to look at, for Shane had committed an act of treason he knew not even Rick would forgive.

 _Why is it_ _ **Rick's**_ _forgiveness you need? He's too good for this world anymore, he's too tired._

However, this was a difficulty. Rick was also the only person he could make eye contact with right now. He didn't want to talk to anyone else, or hear anyone else. It isn't as though Rick automatically made everything okay, but it felt like something like that.

Shane felt panicky, skittish, for reasons that he obviously didn't want to be general knowledge. He _did_ , however, want Rick to know what kind of state of mind he was in, so he fumbled for Rick's hand on his shoulder and hurriedly placed it over his heart. He was sure Rick felt the _thud- thud, thud- thud_ \- Shane thought it shook the whole house at first, but then realized it was he himself who was shaking.

Rick glanced at him, and without a moments notice, dragged him to the bed so he could sit down, not bothering with the chair. The moment he touched the mattress, he let out a shaky sigh, trying to say something, _anything_ \- he just couldn't make his vocal chords work.

Rick seemed to get that, shushing him, sitting down next to him. It wasn't until he felt Rick's arm around him that he felt liquid- tears- spilling down his face. He couldn't make them stop- didn't know why they kept coming. He just wanted it to only thing he could do was lean to the right, into his friend, and let himself be weak for a moment.

 _That's right, do what you always do. Go to Rick. Leech off him. He'll fix everything for you. Not like he doesn't have his own damn problems._

After moments of Rick's breath and a comforting quiet, he took Shane's face in his hands, thumbs just in front of his ears and fingertips resting on the nape of his neck. Shane replied in the same way- it was all he could do- practically shuddering with all the work he was doing trying to find his voice instead of relying on all this touching, this holding, and the quiet.

But, even so, Shane didn't deny that these things brought him some comfort. Maybe not having to express your thoughts in words was a good thing at times- in fact, he was actually partial to this, with Rick, his soft, reassuring voice telling him little lies that he knew were lies, indeed.

" _It's all gonna be okay,_ "

 _It's all gonna go to hell, boy, you know that._

What Rick says goes.

" _I need ya, Shane_ ,"

 _He doesn't need you. He never has. No one ever listens to you._

What Rick says goes.

Shane's mind was almost on autopilot. What Rick says goes- trust him above any other.

Trust him with anything, you name it; your life? You could surely count on him to do everything in his power to keep you safe, as long as you did the same for him. Your love? Your trust? Shane had pretty much blindly thrust these things at Rick and merely asked him, "I scratch your back, you scratch mine?"

Rick gently pulled their foreheads together, murmuring about nothing in particular that Shane heard. He felt Rick's breath warm his face. Shane hadn't known his eyes were closed until he felt them fluttering open- Rick's soft blue eyes piercing his deep brown ones. Rick's hands travelled down, down, down until it reached his shoulder, leaving it there for a moment. Rick then leaned back so he could examine Shane again, fingertips on Shane's temples, tilting his head the slightest bit to and fro. Might be checking him for a concussion- some injury or another.

Shane didn't know where to look, didn't know why he felt his face heating up. This was not the time. His eyelids fluttered once again in frustration, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Rick's hand grasped at his chin briefly, just to raise Shane to eye level- again, just checking for concussion. He complied, and Rick was so much closer all of a sudden, face a bit contorted with worry in checking for injury. So close that Shane could've sworn he felt his best friend's breath on his face again.

Shane didn't try to stop himself, nothing jarred him, and nothing made him think twice about following that instinct. He leaned in quickly, pressing his lips familiarly to Rick's, and just as quickly rocking himself backwards, ashamed. Ashamed that he thought Rick might comply, that he thought of going forward- ashamed that he got goose bumps. The thought of that increased his self-loathing even more.

 _Now look what you did, faggot. You done fucked up._

Before Rick could say anything, Shane stuttered for half a second, and then blurted, "I-I didn't mean it." And Rick just looked at him, trying to read him. "You didn't?" Shane could feel the heat crawl up his neck and spread over his cheeks.

 _Shame on you._

Rick's expression changed to one of only slight sympathy, scooting over so that his knee was resting against Shane's. Rick didn't know what to do, what to think. His friend was hurting, but then again they all were. For all Rick knew, he could have been Dale and Shane would've leaned!

Deep down he knew it wasn't true though- Shane and him had shared so many experiences, so many memories. Many firsts too. In fact, Rick's first hand-job was from Shane. They barely ever brought it up afterwards, but it was Rick's sixteenth birthday and he'd never gotten one from anybody except old reliable righty. He had been quick to finish; trying hard not to make a sound- Shane coaxed one or maybe two out of him though. Or maybe way more than that…he remembered it well. That's probably because he remembers it in the shower so often.

*flashback noises woosh*

 _"Are you sure about this, Shane?" Shane only laughed, his warm brown eyes reflecting a good-natured attitude about the whole situation. "I'm pretty sure I should be asking_ _ **you**_ _that question, bud." Rick raised an eyebrow in question, and Shane only shook his head with a small smile, sheepishly looking down, "Ah, y'know, man, it's your call." Rick thought about it for a little, and finally gave his consent. Shane plopped down on the couch next to him after a moment of pacing. "A'right, man, lets get this show on the road, now, huh?" Rick obeyed, unbuttoning his jeans and zipping the fly down, taking them and his boxers off just enough so that his length was revealed. He blushed hard, thought Shane might laugh at him, but instead Shane just whistled and grinned at his friend. Shane offered up some choices. "Your pick." Rick had never heard some of these terms before really, but he gathered what they meant. He decided to go with reach around because it was first. Shane replied, "Nice one," He then scooted down on the couch in Rick's basement, leaning back, he loosely spread his legs apart. With one foot up on the ottoman footrest, Shane glanced at Rick and patted the area in front of him. Was Rick really supposed to go there? Probably. Rick got up and went over, gave his friend a questioning look, and hesitantly, cautiously, ever so slowly sat down. He knew that he had to be back to chest with his friend when Shane murmured, "C'mere," and he did. He leaned against his friend's broad chest, feeling it a bit more comforting than he was comfortable with. He felt Shane's chin resting in the space between his shoulder and his neck so he could see, and saw his hand reaching around his body to 'get this party started'. Rick grabbed his hand loosely, and taught him the way he liked it. Then, Shane began, and as soon as he did, he had his friend moving, fidgeting a little, trying to be silent. Shane noticed this; a bit shocked every time he heard even a sigh escape from Rick- it was so unorthodox of him to be so submissive this way. Shane admittedly, ashamedly, liked the sound of it, though. Shane coaxed, murmuring in his ear with a very quiet, scorching breath, "It's okay to make some noise, bud," and at that, Rick made a small whimpering sound, writhing his body against Shane's. Shane teasingly rolled his hips in reply. He encouraged him some more as he gradually undulated a tiny bit quicker, "That's it, just like that, huh? You like that, don'tchyou?" Rick moaned back to him this time, his voice cracking. God, Shane loved every minute of it. Shane got so lost in the moment, "Yeah? You want more?" Rick whined, so very lost as well, "Fuck, hurry up," Shane whispered dirty things in his ear that he knew would make Rick blush harder than was humanly possible, maybe even tugged on that ear with his teeth a little bit, all the while beating him off. It was nearly enough that Rick pleaded with Shane, but he also tried to stop from saying his name. It was coming to a close, "Sh…Sh-ah!" He was trying so hard not to say 'Shane' that he'd forgotten his vow of silence. Shane whispered in a breath, "I know whatch'you want," Shane placed his other hand where Rick's entrance would be and dug his finger into the material of his boxers mercilessly, "W-wha-! God, yes, fuck," Rick helplessly writhed against his friend, who was still rolling his hips against him; Shane's voice reduced to gravel, "Mhm, yeah baby, come on, come on," "Sh…fucking god, I'm gonna- I'm gonna come, Shane! Shane! Uhhh~" Rick rode it out, fingers scraping the jean material on Shane's thighs, Shane's hands on him. He came twice, ruining the rug on the far side of the basement even more. Shane chuckled disbelievingly at that, muttering, "god damn." Shane clapped his hand on Rick's shoulder, his warm brown eyes shining, a shit eating grin in his voice, "…Well, I…I don't have to ask if you liked it, then," Rick returned this sentiment with an embarrassed glare, face glowing it looked so red. As they were standing and dusting themselves off, Rick's face only got redder as Shane made more fatuous remarks like: "Never knew you'd let so loose out on me, Jesus," or "Damn, maybe for your next birthday I'll bring a vibrator," and even, "Guess it don't matter if no one else is home, I bet the folks down the street heard us," And Rick was silent the entire time- giving him the finger the entire time too._

And that was it. Rick admitted later in life how intimate it had been, and how much he'd actually enjoyed it, but only to himself. Not ever to Shane.

Shane, guilt ridden, got up looking down at the floor, and made his hasty exit.


End file.
